


Guns and Roses

by ToastTSA



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 03:19:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9859808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToastTSA/pseuds/ToastTSA
Summary: Prompto and Gladio run a tough-as-nails tattoo parlor called Hammerhead. They pride themselves on their go-to spirit, and the fact that they can make it where others haven't. But one day a flower shop moves in next door, and while some are concerned about how it makes their parlor look, Prompto's more worried about the weird feeling he gets whenever Noctis walks by.





	

“Hammerhead: Tattoo Parlor.”

Gladio put the sign up personally, Prompto painted the shark.

It hangs above their door, freshly shined. A symbol of their grand opening. It’s the first thing someone sees when they come around the corner, and that’s the point. Hanging in the window it also reads “TATTOOS,” but the shark is what matters. The shark is their mascot. Hammerhead, tough as nails, it sets the tone for their place of business. It’s a hard street on hard times, and the duo who run the place aren’t afraid to show it.

Prompto’s parents still aren’t ecstatic that he picked the tattoo business over being a doctor or a lawyer or a military man, but he’s never been one for blood, or for Latin, so he found himself most content with a needle in hand as any artist is when approached with a canvas and a brush. Plus, Gladio talked him into it. He needed a business partner, and Prompto needed a job. It worked out.

But there was no easy start. Prompto often found himself running between the roles of secretary and tattoo artist whenever Gladio wasn’t around, and vice versa. When Prompto wasn’t taking calls, scheduling appointments, or mailing bills he was in the back, bending over someone as he digs a needle into their skin and turns the pain into a painting. He’ll make them whatever they ask, be it the face of a pretty lady or the glare of a wolf. He can write them a memory in perfect cursive, or etch a message in chicken scratch. It’s to the preference of the customer, and to their preference he works.

Things went on like that for a time, and it was to that methodical beat that Prompto lived his life. Every day he walked down to the tattoo parlor from his apartment, passing the same couple of buildings. There was a pizza joint at the far end of the street. Sometimes him and Gladio would go down there for lunch. Then there was a pawn shop that took up two store fronts – he still remembered the day the owner had smashed the wall dividing the two with a sledgehammer. It was loud enough to shake the street. After that came a joint that couldn’t decide whether or not it wanted to be a drug store or a jewelry shop, so it decided to just be both. From there were a few nameless places – a dollar store, an antique shop. At the end of this street was Hammerhead, but just before that was a lonesome lot.

It was abandoned, had been even before Gladio and Prompto bought their shop and moved on in. The man who had been on that street the longest – the pawn shop owner – said that it used to be a place to buy books, but one day the owner closed up and ran off without a word.

So Prompto walked up and down that street every day, naming the buildings as he passed:

Pizza, pawn, drug and jewelry, dollar, antique, empty, Hammerhead. 

Pizza, pawn, drug and jewelry, dollar, antique, empty, Hammerhead. 

Pizza, pawn, drug and jewelry, dollar, antique, flower shop, Hammerhead. 

Wait.

Prompto stops dead in his tracks one morning. There’s a bit of a chill so he’s wearing a jacket but maybe that was a bad idea, because he’s so used to sleeveless vests and shirts that the extra layer of clothing is throwing off his head.. It must be, because he swore just yesterday that this shop was as empty as could be there’s no way that --

“Can I help you?”

Prompto jumps and turns around. 

Suddenly there’s a man, hardly any taller than him. He has a mess of black hair and sea-blue eyes, and stares at Prompto with weariness in his gaze. His attire is nothing special, but he’s carrying a gardening apron, and there’s something about the way he walks that puts butterflies in Prompto’s stomach, butterflies that steal away his words and leave him dumbfounded.

The blond isn’t sure what to say back and so the two of them stare at one another with an awkwardness about the air, as if they don’t know what to do with themselves. The silence is broken when Gladio drives down the road in his trunk, honking.

“Hey Prompto, get to work!” he yells as he zooms by.

“Y-yeah, you go it!” Prompto yells back. He spares one look at the stranger, and musters little more than a wave. Then he’s off, running to Hammerhead so he can start the day. 

It’s about an hour later, after all the morning duties have been done, when Gladio decides to strike up a conversation. “So, who was the guy, huh? Someone special?”

“Pfft, yeah right,” Prompto laughs. “I don’t know who he was, I just ran into him.”

“Does he work at that flower shop?”

“Flower shop?”

“Yeah, you know, the one right next door?”

“Oh.” So it wasn’t just his imagination. There was definitely a flower shop next door, and he definitely had no clue how it got there. Rome wasn’t built in a day, but that shop got put up in half of one. “I don’t know man, maybe. I didn’t ask.”

“Well I hope whoever owns that place is nice, because it’s a real thorn in our ass.”

Which is is, simply put. A hardcore, tough-as-nails tattoo parlor doesn’t exactly fit next to a flower shop. Hopefully it won't scare off any of their customers, but they can never be so sure. Only time will tell.

And time did tell.

Every morning Prompto would walk by that flower shop either a step ahead or a step behind the stranger he had met on that first day. They never spoke, made eye contact at best, and ignored each other at worst. Sometimes, when Prompto would be walking by on a chilly morning or a mild afternoon, he would see that man adjusting the displays, putting out new bouquets and taking down old ones. Sometimes, on accident, the man would look up and see Prompto walking by. He would pause for a moment then look back down or turn away, whichever was easier. Sometimes they make eye contact, and Prompto finds those butterflies in his stomach all over again. 

They don't even know each other’s names, but a little part of them wants to.

“When are you going to stop staring and start talking?” Gladio would ask. He started to notice the encounters just as much as everyone else did.

Prompto would say “soon” or “never” or nothing at all.

Eventually he even starts lying to himself.

He would head to work and think, _‘I’ll check out that shop today.’_ Then he would reach the shop and think, _‘I don’t have time, I’ll have to drop by at lunch.’_ Then he would leave for lunch and walk right by and say, _‘Oh well, there’s always tomorrow.’_ And then tomorrow would turn into a few days, which would turn into a few weeks, and before Prompto realizes it a month has passed and he’s barely said ‘hi’ to the man who runs the shop next door. He’s embarrassed, admittedly, and annoyed with himself. It wasn’t that hard – he couldn’t understand his own reluctance! What was up?

He kicked himself like that for a while. Another month goes by. Then one morning he finally decided to make change.

It was another cool morning, like it always was. He walked right by the pizza parlor, passed the pawn shop, waved at the owner of the drug-jewelry store hybrid, glanced into the dollar store, ignored the antique shop, and then – he almost kept walking. There was a stutter in his step, he nearly corrected himself and went on. But he’s been saying he would drop by for nearly two months now, and Prompto isn’t about to let himself skip out on that opportunity any longer. So without pausing to change his mind, he turns on his heel and walks on into that flower shop.

Even before he steps inside he’s overwhelmed by a wave of fluttery scents. It isn’t particularly surprising – flowers are every which way. There are some outside on displays, inside on displays, lining the windowsills and the walls, the shelves and the counters. There are a variety, too. Some reds, some whites, purples and blues. Some he recognizes: daisies and roses. Others have names that were too long for him to comprehend.

Prompto’s so enthralled by the flowers that, for a moment, he forgets why he’s there.

He doesn’t forget for long, though. The next thing he knows someone’s walking out from the back of the shop, stopping the second they see him.

“Can I help you?” the strangers says, the same way he had all those months ago.

Prompto jumps, again, and whips around. The man’s there. His hair’s the same, his eyes are still a deep, ocean blue. There’s a bouquet in his arms, a delicate mix of shades. They match the florist's eyes, and for a moment Prompto thinks – ‘damn, I wish I had my camera.’ It’s a picture perfect moment, and he hates to miss the opportunity.

Then the man repeats himself, “Can I help you?” and Prompto realizes he’s been staring like a fool.

“O-oh!” he stutters, trying to stifle the awkwardness in his tone. “Sorry! I just wanted to check out the shop, is all.” He looks around, then quickly adds: “It’s nice.”

The man nods. “Thanks.”

Then they hit that weird part of the conversation where they’re not quite sure what to say or when to say it. It’s reminiscent of their first encounter, and Prompto is desperate to escape it.

“So!” he blurts out, a bit louder than he would’ve liked. “I’m Prompto. I work at the tattoo parlor next door, Hammerhead, you might’ve heard of it. I’m one of the artists.”

“I noticed,” the man says in a rather blunt fashion. Prompto hesitates to continue, worried that he said something wrong, but the man quickly corrects himself. “Sorry. I’m Noctis.”

“Noctis,” Prompto repeats, testing it on his own tongue. He seems satisfied, but Noctis only quirks a brow.

“You said you’re Prompto, right?”

“Yeah, Prompto Argentum.”

“Well, I’ll see you around Prompto.” Noctis turns and walks over to a display he’s been working on. The tattoo artist watches him for a moment before slipping away.

The next day Prompto drops by again and says hi. He does the next day too and the day after that, and although Noctis and him hardly ever converse Prompto feels like this is the beginning of something. Gladio teases him for it off and on, and it becomes a bit of a joke in the parlor, but that doesn’t deter the little blond. He keeps it up, keeps smiling and waving, and he can see himself chipping away at Noctis’ armor, getting him to open up bit-by-bit. They’re hardly friends, little more than acquaintances, but it feels like something more.

Prompto’s the one who takes it a step further, because he feels obligated after two months of trying-and-failing.

He finishes a job on a client early one day. A biker came in, wanting a tattoo of his dog. An odd request but one Prompto obliges happily. He’s always done best with animals. Not bugs, though. Never bugs. So he does the tattoo, it takes about an hour but before the clock hits noon the tat is done and the customer is satisfied. The man pays, promises to put in a good word, then heads out. At that point Prompto’s worn after a busy morning: three different clients all with three tedious works. He’s ready to take a nap but figures going out for lunch would be better.

Normally he would’ve gone with Gladio, but Gladio is busy trying to finish a back tattoo and that could take another couple of hours. Plus, well, Prompto has plans.

“Noctis!” Prompto yells into the flower shop as he comes to the door, peering inside. Noctis is occupying himself with a rosebush, snipping away at thorns.

“What’s up Prompto?”

“Hey dude, want to go get some pizza?”

“What?”

“Pizza! There’s a place down the street, want to come?”

“Right now?”

“Yeah man, it’s lunch time! And trust me, the pizza is awesome.”

Noctis stares at Prompto for a moment, before nodding. “Alright,” he says. “Give me a second. I’ll meet you outside.”

“Sweet!”

Prompto steps out and waits. A moment later Noctis comes out. He’s not wearing his gardening apron and his sleeves are rolled down. Prompto takes a moment to admire the casualness of his attire before starting to head down the street. 

“The pizza place is just at the corner here, and I promise it’s great.”

“I’ll take your word on it.”

“Have you seriously never been there?”

“No. I’ve walked by it but I’ve never gone in.”

“Well, it’s time to change that, c’mon!”

The door to the pizza place is propped open, intentionally so. The smell of freshly baked pizza entices passersby and tempts them to enter. Only the strong few manage to pass, but Prompto is definitely not one of them. He leads Noctis inside and immediately wants to buy out the shop. It’s like a spell, a wonderful, manipulative, pizza-induced spell.

“What do you want?” Prompto asks as they walk up to the counter. There are so many options on the menu that it may seem overwhelming, but he clarifies each one with a determined gaze. “There’s pepperoni and cheese but they’ve also got special ones like the Deluxe, which has extra stuff like green and red peppers.” Noctis immediately scrunches up his face in disgust. Prompto takes that as a sign to switch it up. “There’s also this one covered in barbeque chicken and there’s another one with bacon and ranch. Do any of those sound good?”

A cashier looks at them expectantly, rocking on his heels as he waits to put in their order. Noctis considers everything for a moment.

“I’ll just take a pepperoni slice.”

 

They only have to wait a few short moments before they get their slices. They’re nice and warm, fresh as can be. The duo enjoy their meals at a windowside booth as Prompto rambles on about the man behind the meal. “I’ve met the chef, Ignis. He’s great, and I mean it too, just take a bite and you’ll get it – this guy is a culinary genius. It’s kind of weird actually, to think that he’s got all this talent and decides to just make pizza.” Not that Prompto’s really complaining – it’s a convenient place for lunch. And sure enough Noctis isn’t complaining either, he’s only a bite in but it feels like a step away from heaven.

“Wow,” is all he can muster with a mouth full of pizza. He swallows before he adds, “You weren’t kidding.”

“I know right! Isn’t this the best pizza you’ve ever had?”

“Yeah. It’s pretty good.”

“I’ll have to tell Ignis I found him another satisfied customer.” Prompto’s satisfied with himself too, though not for baking any pizza or tattooing any tattoo. Just for talking to Noctis. It’s like making a friend, and although he’s never been all that great at it he can pride himself on the few times he’s tried. Even if he might look back at this later and feel like a complete idiot for the things he said or the way he acted. Oh well. Time to just live in the moment.

“How many tattoos do you have?” Noctis asks between bites.

“Oh, I don’t know. A couple.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I’ve got this one,” Prompto says as he points to the small tattoo just next to his eye. It’s of a bird, with very few discernable details. It’s intentionally small, and intentionally simple. “This was my first tattoo. Probably a bad idea but, hey, it’s the mark of an artist.”

“What’s it mean?”

“Nothing. Well, my friend likes to say it means I’m airheaded, but I just got it because I wanted to. Sometimes tattoos just look cool, like this one.” Prompto holds out his forearm and shows off his tattoo of a forest. There’s a few trees on a grassy horizon with birds in the sky and a fading blue background. “I came up with this design on my own, pretty awesome right? I got the inspiration from a picture I saw. There’s not really a meaning behind it I just thought it’d look sweet on my arm. It hurt really bad to get, though.”

“How bad?”

“Dude, it _sucked_. I mean my friend, Gladio, he takes tattoos like a boss, but I hate the pain.”

“Then why are you a tattoo artist?”

“I like the art. And besides it’s not bad to think tattoos hurt. If anything not being hurt by a needle as it stabs you thousands of times makes you the weird one, not me.”

Prompto earns a little chuckle from Noctis, and that makes him very happy.

“Whatever you say. You’re the artist,” Noctis says as he wipes his face with a napkin and stands up. A solid twenty minutes has passed, it’s probably be a good idea to start heading back. There were tattoos to be tattooed and flowers to be... flowered. Either way their meal was done, their stomachs were filled, and it was time to get the move on.

On the way out Prompto adds, “I’ve got a real cool one on my back too but I can’t show you here.”

“Why not?”

“Uh, dude, we’re in public and that’d be weird.”

So they walk all the way back to Noctis’ flower shop and Prompto sticks around because now he really wants to show off his tattoo, even if only for a moment. “I’ve also got one on my hip but I’m keeping that one to myself,” he remarks offhandedly as he shrugs off his vest and starts to pull off his t-shirt.

“Okay, now you’re the one making this weird,” Noctis says as he checks to make sure no innocent bystander is about to walk in and see Prompto.

Prompto himself is starting to realize how weird this is and that it’s maybe not the best idea in the world but by now his shirt is already halfway off and it might be even weirder if he just bailed last minute so now he’s knee-deep in a difficult situation and there’s no way out so, well, bye-bye t-shirt. He pulls it off and turns around, trying to hide the awkward folds of his body and keep the focus on his tattoo. Across the top of his back in some old, western style font reads “DEAD OR ALIVE” and just underneath is a skull and crossbones, all in black.

“Wow,” Noctis says with a quirk of the brow. “That’s pretty metal.”

“You really think so?” Prompto says with notable excitement in his voice as he glances over his shoulder, still too shy to face Noctis full-on. “My friends tease me about it all the time. I guess I don’t really come off as, you know, an outlaw. Or a cowboy.”

“Yeah, you don’t, but it looks cool. Did you design it?”

“No,” Prompto says as he swipes up his shirt and pulls it back on, vest quickly following. “Somebody else did. Oh and, for the record, it hurt like crazy and it also doesn’t have a meaning.”

“Do any of your tattoos have meaning?”

“They look nice. Isn’t that enough?”

Noctis and Prompto spoke like that for a little longer before Prompto went back to work because work’s important and he can’t neglect that for the flower boy next door. The day goes by and he tattoos another client. It’s a big tattoo, a large shark along the man’s leg. It takes up the rest of his shift and Prompto is forced to have the utmost concentration on his work. He can’t, though, because every so often his mind will wander and it’ll stumble back to lunch with Noctis. It’ll go to his hair and his eyes, his rolled up sleeves and his garden apron. It’ll tiptoe back to his flower display, to his lilacs and his sunflowers and his beautiful, beautiful roses.

Then Prompto will remember he’s in the middle of tattooing, and correct himself before he makes some awfully permanent mistake

But he knows this is a sign of something and whatever it is he needs to straighten it out before it starts causing problems. A clear mind is incredibly important in this line of work, right up there with a steady hand and an eye for art. If he can’t maintain those three things then he needs to proceed with caution. It will benefit no one if he butchers a tattoo because he’s too busy daydreaming about some guy next door.

Prompto keeps that in mind when he’s heading home. He almost drops by the flower shop one more time but he finds that Noctis closed early that night. Prompto thinks little of it.

The next morning the flower shop is there and open but Prompto is late and Noctis isn’t in the window or by the door so he can’t muster a hello. The blond is instead too busy running to work and hoping he didn’t miss his early-morning appointment. Thankfully the client was just as late as him, so things manage to stay relatively on schedule. Lunch rolls around and Prompto has no time for friendly chatter so he eats a bag of chips in the corner and then gets back to work. One tattoo runs late and before Prompto knows it he’s sticking around after closing to make sure some guy can have a clock on his bicep. The tattoo gets finished, the customer leaves satisfied, and Prompto closes shop knowing that he’ll be getting a nice paycheck by the end of the week.

But he misses Noctis, again, because by the time he leaves the flower shop is all closed up and Prompto starts to realize that he hadn’t even said ‘hi’ that morning.

Then Prompto realizes he’s focusing on Noctis again, and shakes it off.

 

The next day’s his day off, so he has no reason to go down to the tattoo parlor or the flower shop. He doesn’t even know if Noctis will be there. But part of Prompto is ushered on by curiosity, and the rest of him just wants to see Noctis again. Maybe that’ll cure his awful daydreaming and help him get back into “the zone.” So he gets up a little around noon and walks down, hoping to grab a slice of pizza if all else fails. It doesn’t, though, because he comes down the street and there’s Noctis, adjusting another one of his displays right out front.

“Hey Noct!” Prompto says with a wave as he walks up. “Can I call you Noct?”

“Yeah sure.”

“Cool! Oh, so, sorry about yesterday. I couldn’t drop by or anything ‘cause work had me loaded.”

“It’s fine, it’s not like we had anything planned.”

“I know I just--I didn’t want to be rude.”

“You’re good Prompto.”

That was a relief to hear, although Prompto isn’t really sure why. To be frank he’s not sure why he would’ve been upset to begin with. There’s nothing to really be upset about, he didn’t say hi to Noctis once, oh well. It’s not much of a missed opportunity. But something about it, about Noctis, still bites at his nerves, and he’s determined to figure out why.

“Did you already have lunch?” Noctis asks. Prompto only catches half of what he says.

“Huh?”

“Lunch. Did you eat?”

“No, why?”

“You should eat. Come in, I’ll split my lunch.”

“What? No man, don’t worry about, I can go buy some pizza.”

“You always buy pizza. Come on, I’ll save you a couple of bucks.”

Prompto considers it for a moment, and although he doesn’t want to mooch off of Noctis, he also doesn’t want to walk down to the other end of the street just for a piece of pizza. In the end he figures it would be rude to say no to a perfectly good lunch, so he goes along with it. “Okay, you got me. I’ll stick around for lunch.” 

It’s around this time that Prompto realizes just how small the flower shop is compared to Hammerhead. Most of the space is taken up by flowers and flower vases, and what little is left is reserved for the cash register and the counter it sits on. There’s a backdoor that leads to a small office and it’s in there that they have their lunch. The office itself is relatively bare. There’s a desk with a chair, and a computer that looks pretty damn old. The walls don’t have much to them and the only notable thing is a picture left out in the open. Noctis is in it, along with a woman around his age and an older man. It’s hard to tell the correlation between the three of them, and he only asks when they’ve sat down and Noctis has pulled out his lunch.

“Who’re they?”

“Who, them?” Noctis points at the picture.

“Yeah."

“My dad and my friend, Luna.”

“Oh, that’s nice. How long have you known them?”

“My dad? Since I was born.” Noctis snickers at his own joke and that gets Prompto to smile too, but he still rolls his eyes in mock-irritation.

“No I mean the lady, Luna.”

“Oh, I’ve known her since we were kids. She’s pretty cool.”

Noctis pulls a sandwich out of his lunch bag and breaks it in half for them to share. Prompto takes it, albeit hesitantly. He doesn’t want to steal half of Noctis’ lunch, but before he can voice his concerns there’s a bag of chips in his hand and a look that tells him to just eat. Prompto obliges, and savours the ham sandwich and chips. “Is this really all you bring for lunch?” he asks once the sandwich is gone and the chip bag is trashed. “It’s not a whole lot.”

“It gets me through the day,” Noctis assures. “Though I might start buying pizza.”

“Ignis will be happy to hear that.”

“I’m sure.” Noctis stands up and tosses his garbage and wipes his hands. He’s about ready to get back to work, and that means Prompto needs to head out soon, but he still has that weird feeling in his chest and it hasn’t gone away. If anything being here, seeing Noctis and his smile, has only made it worse. Prompto doesn’t know what to do, and apparently it shows because Noctis is staring at him and Prompto’s just staring back. It’s like they’ve only just met all over again. They don’t know what to do, what to say. Prompto feels like a complete doof, and he can’t tell if Noctis feels the same. 

“You know Prompto,” Noctis begins as he leans against his desk. “I was thinking about getting a tattoo.”

“Woah, what? Really?”

“Yeah. You see, there’s this flower...”

Prompto didn’t leave when he thought he was going to leave. In fact he stayed at that flower shop for the rest of the day (after running next door to grab his sketch book, of course). Noctis had shown him this beautiful flower called a sylleblossom. It was a shade of blue unlike any other, and he wanted to get it tattooed somewhere.Where he wasn’t sure, but he put faith in Prompto to get it right. Which was terrifying. Because Prompto’s designed dozens of tattoos before and tattooed just as many, but none of them have ever been for Noctis, and the fact that this one is just scares the crap out of him. Nonetheless he makes a couple of different sketches and considered a couple of different placements: his chest, his back, his bicep, his calf. It was hard to come up with anything definite because a lot came into play when placing a tattoo, but at least it was a start.

Time flew by and before Prompto knew it Noctis was knocking on the office door.

“Hey Prompto, I’m going to be closing shop, you done yet?”

“Uh yeah, I’m getting there,” Prompto says as he puts his pencil down. He holds up his sketchbook and lets Noctis look at the sketches. “I’ve got a couple of ideas. Do you want the stem to be in the tattoo? I can make it work but I can also just focus on the pedals if you want.”

Noctis looks over the book, seeming to analyze every single little detail. Prompto starts to wonder if he doesn’t like them, or if something’s really wrong, or whatever. Then Noctis says,

“Have you ever seen a pressed flower before?”

Prompto gives him a quizzical look. “A pressed flower?”

“Yeah. Something like this.” Noctis walks behind his desk and pulls out a small journal. He flips to a particular page and then holds it out for Prompto. Prompto takes it and looks the page over. There’s a blue flower pressed into the paper. “This would be cool, if it could look like the flower was pressed into my skin, you know?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah! I get what you’re going for.” 

Prompto snatches up his sketchbook and pencil and quickly doodles a design. It isn’t perfect and very rough around the edges, but it matches the pressed flower in the journal. “Like this?”

Noctis looks at the picture and nods. “Yeah. Like that.”

“Cool! Okay, I’ll work out some more designs and think of where you’re gonna want to put it. Is it okay if I drop by tomorrow and show you?”

“Sure.”

“Great!” Prompto puts away his sketchbook and his pencil and helps Noctis bring in all the flowers before they bid their farewells and leave. Prompto walks to his apartment and spends the rest of the night munching away on granola bars and working on his sketchbook. He’s a bit nervous, admittedly, which is probably why he’s eating so much, but he doesn’t stop until he makes a design that he is sure will wow Noctis. He doesn’t make one though, because he falls asleep before the design can be finalized and when he wakes up the next morning it’s on his couch, pencil still in hand.

Well, that’s one way to start the day.

Prompto rolls off (well, he falls off) the couch and rushes to get ready for work. He’s a few steps late by the time he leaves, but that doesn’t stop him from quickly finishing the sketch and dropping by Noctis’ anyway. “Noctis!” he yells as he enters the flower shop, pulling out his sketchbook and flipping to the page. “I finished your tattoo, check it out!” Noctis pokes his head out from the the office.

“What?”

“Your tattoo! I finished the design.”

“Oh, awesome.”

“I colored it too!” Prompto hands the book to him excitedly, practically vibrating. The design takes up an entire page – an elegant coloring of a sylleblossom flower. Prompto was especially careful about the manner that the petals were pressed down, trying his best to make it as accurate as possible. He needed it to be after all, he was proposing this design to a florist and a little inaccuracy could ruin it. But as far as Prompto’s concerned it’s a masterpiece, and probably the prettiest flower he’s ever drawn. “What do you think?”

Noctis looks the drawing off and his eyes actually light up.

“Wow this is... this is actually pretty amazing.”

“Did you ever really doubt me?” Prompto teases, leaning close so he could admire his work. “I was thinking you could maybe put it along your side right here.” Prompto ghosts his hand over Noctis’ side, just above his waist and below his armpit. “It’s not the best place to get a first tattoo but if you wanted you could have the flower stem curl along your abdomen and kind of move with the muscles, you know? It might look pretty cool.”

“Do you do the whole thing at once?”

“Well, no, not always. We can do it in layers if you prefer. We could do the linework one day and the coloring another day, you just need to make sure you tend to it.”

“Is that... hard?”

“What, tending to tats? Don’t worry about it man, you just have to keep them clean and safe from certain things. And they’re a little raw the first few weeks so you need to be careful about that, but you can buy lotions and stuff from the shop, we sell ‘em at Hammerhead.”

“Oh, okay. That’s not that bad.”

“Yeah! Tattoos are pretty cool and pretty worth it, trust me.”

“I’ll make an appointment later, I need to get back to work.”

“Right right, I’ll see you later, Noct!”

Prompto walks to Hammerhead with some skip in his step. He’s not sure why there’s a smile on his face but he figures it’s because of a job well done. Gladio notices the way he’s acting too, but he doesn’t ask any prodding questions because Prompto seems so happy and there’s no real reason to ruin his fun. Gladio simply watches on.

A day’s worth of work goes by.

Gladio leaves early that night, and so Prompto’s the one left to close shop. He’s sweeping up dirt and putting away files when the parlor door opens. “Sorry we’re closed!” he calls from the back. He doesn’t hear the door open again so he turns to look. Noctis is standing there expectantly. Suddenly Prompto is very happy that he didn’t hear the door open a second time. “Oh, hey Noct! Sorry, I didn’t know it was you.” Prompto puts away the broom and walks over. “Welcome to Hammerhead! How can I help you?”

“Can I schedule my appointment?”

“Oh, for your tattoo?” Of course it is, what else would he schedule it for?

“Yeah. Should I come back later?”

“No no, we can schedule it now. Step into my office.” The office in question is just a makeshift secretary desk off in the corner. Prompto sits down and turns on their computer. “When do you want to do it? I’ve got lots of openings.”

“How about tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Prompto clicks his tongue and looks over the schedule. “I can squeeze you in at the end of the day, how’s that? Like, around this time.” Technically they’re closed at this time, but he’ll make an except for Noctis because, well, it’s Noctis.

“I can do that.”

“Sweet! Are you still up for that design I showed you?”

“Yeah, it looks good.”

“Awesome!”

Prompto spends the next day ever ecstatic about Noctis’ tattoo. He’s not hiding it all that well either, because Gladio keeps sending him this knowing look, as if Prompto is hiding some amazing secret from the rest of the world. He’s not, as far as he can tell, but even he doesn’t understand what he’s feeling right now. He simply accepts it as some form of happiness and goes about his day.

When the sun sets and the last client leaves, Gladio heads out.

“I’m going home Prompto!” he yells, one foot out the door. “Are you closing up?”

“Yeah, but I’m staying late! I’ve got another appointment.”

“With who?”

“The florist!”

“Oh,” Gladio says, and he says it in such a suggestive manner that Prompto thinks it might have some double meaning. He swears Gladio shoots him a wink too, but it’s so late that Prompto’s convinced he’s seeing things. “Good luck with that buddy, make sure you clean up when you’re done.”

Gladio leaves and Prompto gets back to prepping a tattoo station.

A moment passes before the door opens again.

“One second!” Prompto calls over his shoulder. He wants the setup to be perfect, because if Noctis gets a shotty tattoo job then chances are he’s not going to want to get another tattoo for a while, if ever. There’s no way Prompto’s about to be responsible for that sort of mishap, so he straightens everything up and pulls out his best inks and needles. Once it’s all set Prompto turns around, and there’s Noctis. “You ready, flower boy?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Noctis says as he walks up. “Do I need to take my shirt off?”

“Uh, well, yeah, if you still want it on your side. Do you?”

“Sure, why not.”

“Okay then yeah, shirt’s off bucko.”

Noctis takes off his shirt and Prompto leads him through the pre-tattooing process. The intended area is cleaned off with rubbing alcohol before being shaved. Once it’s smoothed down a stencil is placed over it and the paper is peeled away to show a brief outline of the tattoo. A bit of ointment is applied and then Noctis is laid down for the tattooing to really begin.

“I’ll be honest, these first couple of minutes are going to suck, but just stick with me, okay?”

Noctis nods. “Just do it quick.”

“Ha, yeah right. There’s no such thing as a ‘quick’ tattoo.”

And it sure does suck from the start. Being jabbed by a needle dozens of time along the same patch of skin does not feel pleasant, and Noctis is almost immediately regretting his decision. But the tattoo’s already started and honestly he does not want to walk out with a half-assed tattoo, so he bares his teeth and just deals with it. “Damn, you weren’t kidding...” he mutters.

“Trust me dude, I know. Just be happy you didn’t get a real big one.”

“...do people actually enjoy this?”

“Oh yeah. I mean, most people agree that it hurts, but I had one guy who actually fell asleep while I was tattooing him. It was weird man.”

“What, how?”

“I don’t know. He’s probably seen some shit.”

That first wave of pain eventually passes, and although there is still a general discomfort it is at least more bearable. Before Noctis knows it the linework is done, and he simply ushers Prompto to continue on with the coloring and shading. No way is he going to stop now and then willingly come back later for the next treatment. Just do it all when he can bare to.

“This is really looking great Noct,” Prompto assures.

“Wish I could see it.”

“Don’t worry man, it’s almost done. Just wait, it’ll be worth it.”

Noctis takes Prompto’s word on it and sits about ever patiently. 

It’s an hour after Noctis first arrived when the tattoo is finished. His skin is raw and pained but he’s been promised a piece of work and it’s exactly what he’s gotten. He stands up and Prompto props a mirror up against the wall. Noctis raises his arm and can see the tattoo perfectly. The skin around it is red, but what he can see is exactly what he hoped for. A beautiful, elegant picture of a sylleblossom is imprinted on his skin. The blue is vibrant, as if it were real, and the stems and petals curve and curl in a way that makes sense. The flower looks pressed into his skin, as if it were a book. He loves it.

“Wow,” Noctis says, breathless. “That’s just... wow.”

“Do you like it?” Prompto says, still jittery as can be. He’s hoping for some praise, because at this point he thrives off of praise, especially if it’s coming from Noctis.

“Yeah, this actually looks better than I thought it would.”

“Can I take a picture of it?” Prompto blurts out. He quickly adds, “It’s for my portfolio.”

“Sure.”

Prompto runs off and grabs his phone. It’s ten at night and he’s tired but right now his priority is Noctis and his tattoo. He comes back into the room and stops dead in his tracks. Noctis is still admiring his tattoo in the mirror and Prompto takes a moment to admire him. It’s not like he’s particularly toned or buff, not like Gladio is. But there’s just... a way about him. Maybe it’s how he holds himself – he’s so casual yet he walks with an air of mysteriousness. It’s the sort of thing that entices interest, and maybe it’s that interest that caught Prompto’s eye in the first place. Maybe that’s what’s been giving him these weird feelings, these butterflies in his stomach. Maybe... maybe he likes Noctis?

He doesn’t have much time to question it, because Noctis catches his eye in the mirror and Prompto rushes in to pretend he wasn’t staring. “Okay, one second,” he says as he pulls the camera up on his phone and kneels down. He snaps a quick picture of the tattoo and then stands up straight. “Thanks Noct! Now I just need to do a little bit of aftercare before you leave.”

Prompto explains the tedious process of caring for a tattoo as he wraps the skin carefully. He tells Noctis the in’s and out’s, the do’s and don't’s, and basically finishes off with, “if you have any questions just come talk to me.”

“I can send you home with a little aftercare kit if you want,” Prompto suggests once he finishes the wrap. “You’ll need to be pretty careful about your tattoo for the next three weeks or so, and the kit just gives you the stuff you’ll need like soaps and lotions. Really aftercare is nothing crazy, you just have to be cautious.”

“Should I tip you?”

“Tip me?”

“Yeah. Like a waiter in a restaurant.”

“Oh no, we don’t really ‘tip’ in the tattoo business.”

“I’m going to tip you,” Noctis says with a sudden determination as he stands up. Prompto gives him a quizzical look as he walks to the door. “I’ll be right back.” Then he leaves the shop and returns a moment later with a red rose in hand. It’s dethorned, and there’s a white tag tied around its stem. He places it on the secretary desk rather than in Prompto’s hand. “Look at that after I leave.”

“Uh, okay, whatever you say man.”

They discuss the topic of the aftercare kit and Noctis ends up leaving with one before the night is over. Prompto sends him on his way with a couple of quick tips and a grateful farewell.

Then comes the long process of cleaning up, because there’s equipment to be put up and tattoo machines to be tended to. All the supplies are put away, things that need to be disposed of are disposed of, and before the clock strikes eleven the shop is nice and tidy. It’s a job well done as far as Prompto is concerned, a day well done, and he’s nearly out the door when he spots that rose Noctis left behind.

It seems like such a silly thing, to drop off a rose as a “tip,” but Prompto takes it anyway.

He’s about halfway home when he notices that there’s writing on the tag beyond a barcode and a price. Prompto stops under the light of a street lamp so he can read the messy handwriting. He’s able to make out “CALL ME” followed by a series of digits. It takes a moment for Prompto to realize Noctis gave him his number. He nearly has a heart attack, right there on the sidewalk.

So maybe he does like Noctis.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! This is my first completed FFXV fanfiction (and my first full-length fanfiction that I've written in years), so I hope you enjoy! I'm considering adding another chapter but it's in the air right now so, stay tuned!


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